


Bonding Exercise

by Albiona



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Awesome Darcy Lewis, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 10:22:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Albiona/pseuds/Albiona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team is all in Avengers Tower (formerly Stark Tower) after a mission, and Captain Rogers feels like it's time to decorate for Christmas. Science bros, Darcy, movie marathon, and fluff ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bonding Exercise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pumpkinonwheels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinonwheels/gifts).



Bruce nursed a cup of coffee as he waited for the elevator. Fury had insisted that the entire team come back to New York for security training in the newly completed Avengers Tower, but being in such close proximity to so many millions made Bruce nervous. Even Thor was somewhere in the building. 

JARVIS conducted the training, individually, on each person’s personal floor and in the few floors, like this one, that might be shared by SHIELD employees as well as any of the Avengers. 

When the double, gold-colored doors opened, Bruce didn’t understand what he saw: a furry green circle with a brown center, and khakis. 

“Steve?” 

The green scraped as it shifted aside and the blonde head of the captain of the Avengers appeared, grinning. 

“Dr. Banner. Going up?” 

“Uh, no,” Dr. Banner said, glancing down the hall. 

“What floor is this?” Steve asked, frowning, looking up and down the control panel to his right. 

“Fourteen. Labs,” Bruce said. Steve stuck his foot quickly out and in, stopping the doors from closing. 

“Oh. I must have pressed an extra button or two accidentally. I’m going to the common floor. Would you like to come with me?” 

“Uh,” Bruce looked down the hall again. He eyed Steve’s load, stretching perhaps the full depth of the elevator. Steve shifted carefully aside to make more of a gap and smiled at the scientist. 

“Sure,” Bruce said finally, knuckles turning white in his fist. He forced himself to ease his grip. “I’ll ride up with you at least.” 

He examined the vibrant conifer as he boarded, the branches held down slightly by a white nylon mesh. He estimated the tree itself was nine feet tall, balanced perfectly on Steve’s shoulder so that both ends drooped sadly. 

The doors closed on silence. 

“Are you excited for Christmas?” Steve asked. 

“I suppose so. A bit early for decorating, though, isn’t it?” 

The captain looked surprised. 

“Is it? Thanksgiving was last week. And we were on a mission,” he said. The elevator dinged and slowed to a stop. Steve checked the panel. “This was my first chance to get anything.” 

“It’s nice,” Bruce assured. “I guess some people, or a lot of people, have already started decorating. I’m not really a good person to ask.” 

“Why’s that?” 

The doors opened and the Captain adjusted his load, easing it out in the wide, empty golden room lit by the afternoon rays. 

“Last year I was in Calcutta. Not a lot of evergreens and holly there.” 

“How long has it been,” he said, turning back to face Bruce, “since you decorated, or had a—you know, a traditional Christmas?” 

Dr. Banner grinned apologetically, arching an eyebrow and rubbing his hands over his silver industrial-grade thermos, a birthday gift from Pepper, engineered by Tony to mostly survive the other guy. So far, the other guy hadn’t tested it. 

“It’s been half a decade, at least,” Bruce said, eying the soldier. 

“Hmm,” Steve looked around the room. “What about the others, do you think?” 

Dr. Banner touched the right sliding door to keep it open, and to give him an extra four seconds. 

“None of us really have normal lives,” he said. 

Steve thought a moment before, expression serious, he gave a purposeful nod to the doctor, who backed up and punched the button for Tony’s floor. 

When he exited, Mr. Stark was placing a tweezer-full of material inside a chemical mapping machine. 

“Banner! Finally,” he stood and gestured his friend over. “What took you so long? The elevator only takes five point two eight seconds between your floor and mine.” 

“Yeah, sorry. I was in the labs, and Steve was on the way up. He was taking a tree to the common floor. Did you try polarizing the androidal sheath?” 

“Twice. And you know I hate repeating myself. Why a tree?” 

Bruce backed up a step, gesturing with his pen, peering at the Iron Man leg laying on the examination table. “For Christmas.” 

“Christmas?” A sharp ding and Tony took the sample back out through a narrow slot. “JARVIS, when’s Christmas?” 

“December 25, Sir.” 

“Oh. Right. I knew that. When’s that?” He held the sample to the light. 

“Twenty-two days from now, Sir.” 

“Why’s he doing it now? Look at the cross of the vantigian cell.” 

Bruce obliged, then took the sample and placed it under a microscope, muffling his voice. 

“Well, the last time he celebrated Christmas, I suppose he was in France. Probably in a foxhole in the Argonne. And it was probably 1943.” 

“No excuse. The whole tower could be blown up in the next twenty-two days. What’s he thinking?” 

“I think he just wants it to look festive.” 

“Oh. Pretty rubble. Got it. Do you?” 

“Want it decorated?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Isn’t that what people normally do at Christmas? Have you thought about oxidizing the alloy casing?” 

“It’d need to stabilize before applying it to the booster. And, yes. Not that I would know. Dad wasn’t really into tradition: decking the halls, being merry, being… around. Pepper sees to that kind of thing. I guess. If it happens. JARVIS, does that happen?” 

“Yes, Sir. Miss Potts always sees that your living areas and official buildings are appropriately decorated for the season.” 

“Oh,” Tony tossed a stress ball into the air and caught it. With his other hand, he drew several chemical compounds on a holographic monitor. “Has she done that yet?” 

“No, Sir. However, she has placed orders and given me instructions.” 

“‘Kay. Cancel anything that Captain Christmas’s already done, and make sure he has everything he needs, would ya? 

“Of course, Sir. I will also inform Miss Potts of any changes relevant to her plans.” 

“Fine. Hey, Banner,” Tony waited until Bruce’s head picked up. “Want some tunes?” 

“I usually work better without it,” Bruce said gingerly. 

“Right. JARVIS, Mannheim Steamroller. Christmas album.” 

The scientist smirked, touching his pen to his cheek as ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing’ played. 

When Natasha entered the common floor, Steve was listening to Bing Crosby’s ‘White Christmas.’ 

“Captain?” she called. 

He emerged from behind the bar, strings of Christmas lights draped over his arms and shoulders, illuminating his upper body in splotches. 

“Agent Romanov.” 

“Fury asked me to bring you this,” she held up a matte black folder. 

“Thank you,” he started toward her, but found himself plugged in. Black Widow suppressed a small smile as he detangled himself. She made him walk across the room, but she did descend the four steps so they’d be on the same level. 

“Is this a mission?” he asked, opening the file. 

“Intel on the Seville situation. It’s escalating.” 

Nodding, he perused while she examined the room, the neatly arranged tree, the bags and boxes of trimmings on the floor. 

“What are you doing, Cap?” 

He glanced up and spoke a little too quickly. 

“Decorating for Christmas,” he caught himself. He continued a bit slower, “Would you like to join me?” 

She eyed him, bemused. 

“Maybe later.” 

He nodded, visibly dampened. 

She shot him a grin with another careful glance about the room as she climbed the stairs. 

“It’s looking good, Cap. I’ll see you later.” 

“Yeah. Bye, Natasha.” 

He examined his handiwork, too, the mass of white lights on the floor, the overflowing boxes of colored balls, the tree upright in the funny metal clamp Miss Potts had insisted he would need. She was right, too. Every tree he’d seen previously had been nailed to an X of wooden boards to keep it upright. 

In the wide, tall room, between the bar and the circle of sofas and armchairs that made up their only real community relaxing space in the building, Steve’s efforts were meager at best. As the doors shut in front of Natasha, he also remembered that he was alone. 

Dr. Foster’s assistant arrived in the mid-afternoon with bags draped over each arm and a Santa hat shoved over her brown curls. 

“Darcy?” Steve said, half-turned from the metal star he was straightening. 

“Sup, Cap. I heard you were trying to Christmas-up the Tower.” 

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Are you here to help?” 

“For a few. Or all night. And I brought fun-ness,” she lifted the bags, grinning. Steve took them from her and followed her to a side table. 

“Who told you?” 

“Tony texted me. Classy tree. I got a few of the more modern favors,” she pulled a box of candy canes and a tiny nutcracker from the bag. 

“I’ve had both of those before.” 

“Really? Okay, you handle these, then, and I’ll unpack the inflatable polar bear.” 

“Polar bear?” 

“Yeah. Here,” she shoved her hat onto his head. “Wear this, jolly man. Remember, no smoking in the Tower.” 

When Thor departed the elevator, Steve sat on the edge of the ottoman stringing popcorn. Darcy had shimmied under the tree to pour water into the stand from one of Tony’s empty crystal decanters. Flanking Tony’s landing pad were frolicking plastic reindeer and an internally-lit blow-up polar bear grinning beside a stack of presents, waving in the wind. They’d secures it all with industrial-strength cable, courtesy of JARVIS. 

“Lady Darcy. Captain,” Thor greeted them. Steve was already rising. 

“Thor, hey.” 

“Captain, I wish to learn about the arrival of your God.” 

Darcy smoothed the red and gold tree skirt as she backed out from under the tree. 

“What?” she said. Thor cocked his head at her. 

“I was given to understand that your God’s journey to Midgard is the purpose for your holiday.” 

“It is,” Steve said, “But how… Did you know we were doing something related to Christmas in here?” 

“The Lady Natasha spoke to me of your celebration preparations.” 

Darcy raised her eyebrows and searched for an empty spot on the tree for more tinsel. 

“Okay,” Steve said, laying aside his project. “I’ll read the story to you.” 

An hour later Thor strung popcorn, nearly as many crushed at his feet as on his thread. He watched Steve, who was pressing whole cloves into the skin of an orange over the sink at the bar, a Bible open beside him. 

“When my father first sent me to this planet,” Thor said, “I was revered as a god also, yet I was not a baby.” 

“But you are not a god. Jesus is God.” 

The elevator doors opened. 

“Hey! Santa’s twisted minions,” Tony called, unnecessarily loud. Bruce followed him into the room, as did DUM-E, one of Tony’s programmed robots. Several bags of Thai take-out swung from its three-pronged claw. “Dinner break. Let’s go. JARVIS, kill the doldrums.” 

The decorators broke from their tasks as the music faded out. 

“Thor,” Tony started, staring at the Asgardian’s head. “What the hell? Who gave you that?” 

Thor touched the green felt, the gold-colored bell, the red trimming. 

“Is it not a traditional helm of your people at this time?” 

“No, it is,” Bruce offered. “But most people who wear it tend to be… short.” 

“Short?” 

“Elves,” Darcy said, cleaning off the bar with Steve. 

“I do not understand,” Thor returned. “In the films of Middle Earth, the elves are of similar height to men.” 

Steve pulled his red and white hat on defiantly and moved to find cutlery. 

“Why’re you Santa?” Tony demanded, crossing toward them. 

“Because he’s Cap,” Darcy passed Tony to take two of the bags from the robot. “Thanks for the munchies, now let’s eat.” 

Natasha and Clint arrived a few minutes after and joined their fellows at the long, high top table. Perched on stools, they took turns stealing shrimp from Darcy’s plate while she argued with Steve and Tony about the best Christmas film ever. 

For dessert, JARVIS sent gingerbread men, snickerdoodles, and cider up the elevator via HoleDough’s new delivery boy, a startled-looking teenager named Peter. 

By the time Pepper entered with papers for Tony to sign, DUM-E was hanging boughs from the tops of the windows at Darcy’s direction. She wore a pair of felt reindeer horns on a headband. Thor had objected to her imitating such a repulsive beast, until she showed him a proper picture on her StarkPhone. 

“You’ve been decorating, Tony?” Pepper asked, part wary, part unduly pleased as she surveyed the room. She forced the stylus and pages into his hands when he stretched for a kiss. 

“Not me. Santa and his headcase helpers.” 

Clint helped Steve coax the sleek silver remote into lowering the blinds and bringing the plasma projection system online. Bruce ate snickerdoodles in the glow of the Christmas tree. 

“Are you planning to stay and help?” 

“No. Bruce and I are redesigning the RT’s energy conduction in the new suit’s extremities.” 

She leveled her gaze at him, not unkindly. He toyed with her ponytail. 

“Stay with your team, Tony.” 

He blinked. 

“I am. Did you not hear me say, ‘Bruce’?” 

“Your whole team. You all are almost never in the same city. And if you do it, the others might do the same.” 

“Hey. Uh-un. I’m not the fearless leader of this menagerie.” 

He cast a judgmental glare about the various headgear in the room. Clint now sported a red bow on the crown of his head, tied down with string. He was grinning, so he’d probably done it himself. 

“Tony, stay. It’ll be good for all of you.” 

“There’s work to do.” 

“That’s not work. For you and Bruce, that’s play time.” 

“And dinner and dessert isn’t?” 

She pursed her lips. 

“Tony.” 

Natasha was tying herself a headband out of deep green ribbon, holding a gingerbread cookie in her mouth by the arm and listening to Bruce, both of them sitting cross-legged at the base of the tree. 

“Fine,” the iron man said. “But you have to stay, too.” 

“I’ll come back once I’m done,” she promised and kissed him. “I have a meeting in Trenton.” He made a show of stumbling when they separated. She winked at him and left. 

Sighing inwardly, Tony faced the room. 

“Okay. Word just came in from Fury. We’re all required to stay for a Christmas movie marathon. All night.” 

“From Fury?” Clint said, lines in his face heavy in the dim yellowy light. 

“Yup. Sent me a text. So,” Tony plopped in the center of the U of sofas. “Lead on Captain. Pick your first film and let’s get on with this.” 

Darcy used Thor as a pillow, complaining of the cold. He laid an arm over her, squinting at the clay-mation. 

“What realm does this film depict?” he asked. 

_I can’t hear a thing when he talks,_ Darcy texted Natasha, who was sitting beside Clint, one of his hands on her knee. 

“Earth, I think,” Steve said from between Tony and Natasha. Thor pointed with certainty. 

“That is not Earth.” 

_Get up,_ Natasha answered. 

“It’s the sort of imaginary Earth that children believe in,” Bruce said. “The material the characters are made out of helps children know that it’s not real. Just pretend.” 

_Can’t. He_ ’s _too hot. ;)_

Clint leaned over to read the exchange. He smirked at Darcy, who blinked back, unabashed. 

Dr. Foster arrived in the interlude after ‘A Christmas Carol,’ conversing so animatedly with JARVIS that Thor was grinning down at her, entirely blocking her path, before she stopped short and noticed him. Once she was well-supplied with cookies and cinder, and Darcy had settled herself against Steve ( _I’m shameless, what? Tell Clint to stop smirking_ ), they started a new movie. 

“The bald one. Why do the other Midgardians ridicule him? It is because he lacks a beard?” 

“No, Thor. Shh,” Jane whispered. 

“But why?” he said, more quietly but no less insistent. 

“Because some people suck,” Darcy breathed. She was sitting cross-legged and cross-armed, a little apart on the couch. “They all hate Charlie Brown. That’s just the way it is.” 

A few minutes later, he started forward and sat arrested for the length of the scene. 

“Steve. The striped one, with the blanket. He spoke the sacred words you read to me. Of your Jesus.” 

“Yeah,” Steve whispered from his spot on the floor where he and Natasha were cutting out paper snowflakes. Darcy alternately glared at the red-head and eyed the screen. 

“Will we see a depiction of the child God?” Thor asked. 

“No. But we can watch a movie that does that another day,” Steve said. 

Jane rubbed a circle on Thor’s chest. When he looked down at her he smiled and settled lower in the cushions, content to be silent for the remainder of the film. 

Tony was pacing by the time Pepper returned. 

“Where were you?” he said, even before he reached her. “I thought your meeting was in Jersey.” 

“It was, and there was an accident on the bridge and the tunnel was packed.” 

He kissed her soundly and turned her toward the sofa. Steve got up to get her a cookie. 

“You texted me, what, forty-seven minutes ago?” 

“Not everyone can fly wherever they like, Mr. Stark,” she said smirking. 

But Tony wasn’t teasing. 

He sat. Drawing her to him, he breathed her in and held her against him. She rubbed her hand over his beard, letting him be reassured by her presence, their legs a tangle. 

Darcy, who abandoned her lone position, fell asleep with her head in Bruce’s lap, which made him mostly uncomfortable and a little pleased. 

At 0700, Fury entered, surveying the room. 

Black Widow and Hawkeye both lifted their heads at the elevator’s opening. They lay bowed together in the corner of the room, their backs to the wall and laying on cushions under a grey blanket. The assassins started to rise, but the director held up his hand. 

Thor lay stretched on his back on the bare floor, Dr. Foster curled against him, her head on his outstretched arm. Dr. Banner and Miss Lewis remained on a sofa, as did Stark and Pepper. Captain Rogers stood outside, watching the sunlight play on the city. 

Fury lay a stack of folders on the table. 

“JARVIS, wake them in an hour.” 

“Yes, Director,” the computer murmured. “Please help yourself to a cookie.” 

Fury did so, but finished it before he walked out to join Rogers. 

“Sir,” Steve turned sharply to attention at Fury’s entrance. 

“Your team looks well.” 

Rogers looked inside. Most of the glass was opaque from the morning’s reflection, but near the bottom, he could see Thor and the ridge of Romanov and Barton. 

“We had a bonding exercise for most of the night, Sir.” 

“I heard. Seven movies.” 

A pause. 

“I also heard that Stark said I ordered it.” 

“I don’t think anyone believed him, Sir. And we were glad to comply, regardless.” 

Fury stared a moment, impassive. 

“You and Agent Romanov are flying to Seville at noon. Banner and Stark have technology presentations scheduled on opposite coasts tomorrow, and Dr. Foster will have to return to her research facilities in Scandinavia. I have use of Barton here. 

Together, the two men gazed out. 

“Was your bonding exercise worth it?” Fury asked. 

The solder examined the orange light, enjoying the bite of the high winds, the hum of the pump trying to keep the wilting stack of presents inflated. 

“Yes, Sir. Christmas is important, especially for people whose lives aren’t normal.” 

Fury checked his phone, began to text, strode toward the door. “Noon.” 

After a moment, Rogers spoke, “JARVIS?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Do you have access to the Avengers’s individual schedules?” 

“Some of them, Sir.” 

“Can you cross-reference them? Where is everyone going to be for Christmas Day?” 

“Barring some chaotic event, Director Fury has just scheduled the entire team to receive unspecified training here at the Tower.” 

A pause. 

“Like yesterday?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Rogers looked through the glass but Fury had already descended. Dr. Banner, however, was pouring himself coffee and, by the time Steve got inside, had poured a second one as well. 

“Thank you, Bruce.” 

The dark-haired man nodded. They drank together. 

“I didn’t think I’d be in a place like this again,” the doctor said quietly. Steve knew to wait for Bruce to continue on his own. “With people who trust me.” 

Not knowing how to respond, Steve nodded to the tree. 

“I wanted things to look light. Normal. As normal as the highest penthouse in New York anyway. You all were the ones who made it into something.” 

Bruce shook his head lightly. 

“You still started it, Steve.” 

“Thanks for sticking with us.” 

Bruce sipped, thinking. “Anytime. So, did ‘Elf’ scar your psyche?” 

“Thank goodness Thor was asleep before that started.” 

Bruce snickered. 

“Not sure how he slept through it, to be honest. All the screaming,” said Steve. 

“I think he could sleep through anything.” 

“Unusual for a soldier.” 

“He’s not one like you,” Bruce said. “No one is.” 

“None of us are alike. That’s why we work well together.” 

“Is that it?” 

“That’s what I’m going with.” 

They grinned, Steve into a porcelain mug and Bruce into his silver thermos. 

“Sounds good,” Bruce stood, stretching. “Well, I’m afraid I’m leaving. I’m presenting a paper at Cal Tech tomorrow.” 

Steve wished him luck and a good trip. 

“Thanks. See you, Steve,” Bruce said. The captain found the reflection of the still-lit tree in his cup. 

“For Christmas, if not sooner.” 

“Christmas?” 

Rogers shrugged, grinning. 

“Fury’s orders.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, readers! I would have been in this fic, but the Avengers won’t let me join them so I was stuck outside in the cold of non-existent sidewalk by the Avengers Tower guest entrance. I was going to beat up the little delivery boy, steal his shirt, and get back in but that bugger’s fast! Climbs buildings, too. Reminds me of someone, but I can’t be bothered to think about it too hard, because there’s an all-night donut shop across the street! Hoorah! I am currently on donut 74. No, no, the owner doesn’t find that weird. I shot over his shoulder first thing and he lit out. Then passed out when he slipped on the sidewalk all on his own!
> 
> Oh, right. This is Deadpool. Hi! I’m waving at you!
> 
> So, hope you enjoyed reading about the lovely me-less Christmas joy in Avengers Tower. Selfish wannabe heroes. They think I’m crazy and unpredictable. No and no. I happen to know that we’re all in comics, and I am predictable. It’s just that pretty-much no one ever gets it right.


End file.
